For the strength of the wolf is the pack, and the strength of the pack is the wolf

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

Nanay

When I was still little, my grandmother, whom we called Nanay, always gave me gentle and loving pats to the leg to lull me to sleep. I was a lola's boy because I didn't sleep beside my mom and dad, rather with Nanay. I remember every time she stopped, I would touch her hand so that she would continue giving me that sense of security so that I can finally chase my creative imagination in my dreams. By time I awaken, her side of the bed was already tidy and made up. Often times, I would open my still sleepy eyes with her already sitting in front of the little altar we had in our room, praying the rosary and saying thanks to the one who made all things possible.

Today marks the eighth year Nanay has ascended to a place of eternal happiness. Eight years ago from today, I lost one of the persons I hold dearest inside my heart.

With some weighty problems burdening my load, I remembered how I always liked Nanay's kind and endearing embrace because I felt safe whenever she was with me. As I stopped by to kindle a few candles in her memory, I wondered if she is proud in whatever I have become and achieved. As I once again took the long walk home for her cause, I felt safe because I knew that wherever I might be, a star beyond the endless sky is always shining its light on me. High in the heavens, Nanay is still patiently giving me her gentle and loving pats. She continues to ease away my pains and sorrows and give me courage in life with the memory of her love.